


ducks in a row

by ahtohallan_calling



Series: planes, trains, and automobiles [3]
Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, first comes a plane ride then comes true love then comes BABIES, set between/after other fics that i haven't actually written yet WHOOPS
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:06:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22418212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahtohallan_calling/pseuds/ahtohallan_calling
Summary: Drabbles set in my plane!au verse about Kristoff and Anna becoming parents :')
Relationships: Anna/Kristoff (Disney)
Series: planes, trains, and automobiles [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1596367
Comments: 30
Kudos: 64





	1. skatten min

He was reading in the chair like always, wearing the sweater that they always traded back and forth without admitting that that was what they were doing; whenever it started smelling like rose and jasmine perfume, Kristoff would nab it from the pile of folded clothes on the dryer, and when once more it smelled like cedar and cinnamon, he would come home from teaching to find her curled up on the sofa wearing it, fast asleep with Sven on her lap.

Anna hesitated in the doorway for a moment, not wanting to disturb him when he was focused so intently on reading; he’d started teaching a new course last week, the first one he’d designed entirely on his own, and she didn’t want to interrupt him if he was working on it.

Well– that wasn’t the only reason she was nervous. She bit her lip and tightened her fingers a little more around the doorframe, feeling her heartbeat pick up again as she watched him scribble a note in the margins of the book, muttering something under his breath. She hadn’t really been planning on this; she didn’t know if he had, even if it was something he wanted. Well– he wanted it, they both did, just maybe not right now, when they’d only just gotten engaged and hadn’t even set a date for the wedding, just spoken generally about spring break or maybe summer and–

She heard him clear his throat. Without looking up, he said, “Are you going to come say hello or not?”, a little smile quirking at the corner of his mouth.

She slipped out of the heeled shoes she’d worn to her meeting that morning and came over to him, wishing she hadn’t worn tights so she could run to him without worrying about slipping and falling. As she drew closer, he set the book aside and opened his arms, wearing that lopsided smile she’d fallen in love with only an hour after meeting him.

She settled on his lap as she did every afternoon, swinging her legs over the side as he pulled her close. This was the highlight of her day; it had started in the early days of their relationship when he would get caught up in reading and she would sneak into his lap and nestle against him. Sometimes he would be so caught up in the book he wouldn’t even notice until she leaned up and kissed his cheek, and then he would jump a little and look down at her with his eyes bright and surprised. He still looked surprised sometimes when she kissed him, like he couldn’t quite believe his luck. 

One of his arms curled around her waist, pulling her close to his chest. She leaned against his shoulder, feeling at least some of her nervousness fade away as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’m surprised I beat you home today,” he said, his other hand absentmindedly tracing up and down the outside of her thigh. “Thought you only had that meeting this morning.”

She didn’t respond; she wasn’t quite ready to. Instead, she just nuzzled her face against his neck, remembering the day they had moved in together, and she had walked in this room expecting it to be empty, only to be surprised by the armchair already sitting there in the middle, ready and waiting.

Her eyes had filled with tears, and he had come up behind her to wrap his arms around her waist. “I know you loved the old one,” he said, dropping a kiss on top of her head, “but I figured maybe with the new place, it was time for an upgrade. And this one’s bigger, too, plenty of room for us both.”

And he knew how much this little ritual meant to her, how much she looked forward to nestling in his arms, and hadn’t wanted her to go even a day without it, even though they would be sleeping on an air mattress for at least a week and trying to make do with a kitchen that didn’t yet have a functioning oven.

Tears were springing up in her eyes again; she did her best to hold them in, but one spilled over and ran down her cheek. Kristoff felt it and leaned back a little with a worried frown. “Anna, _skatten min_ , what’s wrong?”

She started crying harder at the worry in his voice. “I– I wasn’t feeling good– I had to leave the meeting early and– that wasn’t the first time, so I went to the doctor–”

He pulled her closer to him; she could feel his heart beginning to pound. “Anna, please–”

“I’m pregnant,” she choked out. “Five weeks.”

He went completely still against her; only the hand that had been running up and down her leg was moving, his fingers trembling just barely as they hovered over her knee. His eyes were wide as they met hers, his mouth struggling to form words. “I– you– five weeks?”

She nodded hesitantly. “Or maybe six. Kris, I–”

“We didn’t even know it,” he said, and suddenly he was beginning to smile.

“I– well, yeah, we didn’t know it until today–”

An excited little laugh escaped him, and then he was kissing her, all over her face until she laughed and caught his face in her hands so she could look at him. His eyes were brighter than she had ever seen them, even–

“When I proposed to you,” he said, and she realized that his eyes were so bright because they were starting to fill with tears, “you were pregnant, and we didn’t even know it. And now– and now–”

She pulled his lips down to hers again, her initial fear all washing away as his arms tightened around her. “It’s okay?” she managed to ask between kisses, and he nodded so enthusiastically his glasses started to slide down his nose.

“Better than okay,” he said, kissing her forehead, “better than– oh, _min kjære, jeg elsker deg_ , Anna–”

“I love you, too,” she said, breathless as he pulled back from her to rest his forehead against hers. “I– you’re really happy?”

“I thought,” he said, his eyes sincere and his voice trembling, “I thought I couldn’t be happier than I already was. But– my Anna, this is–”

She threw her arms around his neck, pulling him as close as she could. “Me too,” she whispered. “Me, too.”


	2. something borrowed

“Can you believe tomorrow night we’ll be married? I can’t wait to finally see what it’s like to share a bed with you.”

“Anna, we’ve been living together for two years,” Kristoff said as she perched on his lap, swinging her legs over the arm of the chair and nestling against his chest.

Apart from kissing his cheek as he wrapped one arm behind her back, she ignored him entirely. “We’ll get to know each other as husband and wife for the very first time.”

Kristoff quirked an eyebrow. “We’ll finally know each other biblically,” she clarified in her most helpful tone.

He slipped his free hand under her sweater and rested it on the slight curve of her stomach, the one they’d only just told their families about last week. “Uh-huh.”

Her voice was light, but he had loved her for long enough now he knew when something was wrong. “Anna, what’s all this about?”

She bit her lip; he reached up and put his thumb there, just beneath it, ever so gently tugging it free, and then leaned in to kiss her as softly as he could. He started to pull away, but she didn’t, instead resting her forehead against his.

“Do you ever…do you ever wonder if we should have done things differently?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

“What do you mean?”

“Like…we did things out of order. What if that was the wrong way to do it, and we jinxed it?”

“Jinxed…what? Us getting married?”

She nodded, just barely, and he gave her a tiny smile, trying to reassure her. “I didn’t know you were superstitious.”

She tried to smile back, but her lower lip was wobbling. Kristoff frowned and wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling her closer. “Anna, we’re going to be fine.”

“I– I know, but I just– this is stupid, Kris, don’t worry about it.”

“It’s not stupid, baby, just tell me.”

She buried her face in his shoulder, embarrassed despite his reassurance. “Just…I’m so happy, about you and the wedding and the baby, and I don’t want to change any of it, but I just…I was in the checkout at the store today and saw a bridal magazine, and I looked at it and saw this article, and I realized I– I forgot to do something borrowed, something blue. And, and– and already we didn’t do any of the other stuff, like I’m seeing you the night before the wedding right now, and– and my dad won’t even be there to walk me down the aisle.”

Anna was sniffling against his shirt now; Kristoff rubbed her back in gentle circles as he spoke. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I– I didn’t even think of it. We’ve been so busy with all this stuff, and it’s all so good, it doesn’t even feel real sometimes, and I..I don’t know. This is stupid, probably just hormones–”

“If it matters to you, it’s not stupid,” he said, and she slipped her arms around his waist, squeezing a little in a silent thank you. He squeezed back and teased, “It’s not too late, you know. If you want, I can still go crash at Ryder’s or something.”

“Don’t you dare,” she mumbled against his neck, and he chuckled.

“Okay. Then what can we do about the…what was the other thing you said?”

“My something blue?”

“Yeah, that. I’ve never heard of it. I don’t think it’s something we do in Norway.”

Anna sat up, looking at him solemnly as she recited the rhyme. “Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.”

“…which means?”

“It’s stuff the bride is supposed to carry down the aisle with her. Or like, wear or something. Like a new hairpin and blue shoes or something.”

Kristoff pondered for a moment. “Well…you’re wearing your grandma’s dress, right?

She nodded.

"So that’s something old…and your eyes are blue…”

“I don’t think that counts,” she said, but the sparkle was back in her eyes, so he just grinned and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“And the baby is something new, right?” he asked, and she nodded, a smile at last reappearing on her face.

“So that just leaves something borrowed…” Kristoff said, tapping his chin. “Surely I’ve got something…oh!”

He fumbled around his collar until he managed to free the thin silver chain around his neck and the little medal that hung from it. “Here. You can wear this.”

Anna’s eyes were wide. “But it was your mom’s. And you wear it every day.”

“And I know if she was still around, she’d want you to wear it tomorrow.”

She hesitantly brushed her fingers over the medal and the raised image of St. Christopher; neither Kristoff or his mother had ever been particularly religious, but she’d gotten it the first time she had left Norway and had worn it until the day she died. Kristoff never took it off, even to sleep, but now he pressed his hand over Anna’s, curling her fingers around it. “I want you to wear it tomorrow, too.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For this, and for loving me, and for everything, because it’s perfect, even if we did it all out of order.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”


	3. mann og kone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually set after the first 2 chapters of this fic...sorry, this is what happens when I drabble everything out of order :'). After a couple of days (so people don't get confused when they see this updated) I'll rearrange and put it all in chronological order.

He had swept her off her feet the moment they had gotten out of the car, and she had let out a surprised laugh and put her arms around his neck just in time. For a moment she had nearly teased him about how it was probably a little too late to worry about the "carrying her over the threshold" thing considering they'd lived together for going on two years and she was nearly four months pregnant, but then she'd shivered when his arms flexed around her and decided that maybe she had better things to think about.

She half-expected him to sit down in their armchair and settle her on his lap, but instead he carried her straight upstairs with no indication of exertion, as if she weighed nothing at all. It was easy to forget how strong he was sometimes when he was always so gentle with her, but suddenly it was impossible to think of anything else when she ran one hand over the broad expanse of his chest, her mouth going dry at the thought of how powerful the arms that cradled her really were.

He set her down on the bed, and immediately she moved to sit on the edge of it, catching the end of his tie and tugging him downwards until his lips met hers. Her mouth was greedy on his, her tongue brushing over his as if she could still taste the sweetness of the vows he had sworn only a few hours ago.

He broke away panting after a few moments, his eyes fierce and full of love as they met hers. "My Anna," he whispered. "My wife."

"Min mann," she said softly back, grateful that for once the Norwegian was easy, and he drew in a shuddering breath, his eyes full of wonder.

She tugged at his tie again, and he came willingly, a mountain of a man that would be moved for nothing except her whim. As her fingers loosened the tie and began to work his buttons free, he set his hands on either side of her so he could lean close enough to kiss the side of her throat, his teeth just barely scraping over the delicate skin there. Anna gasped and blindly clutched at the fabric of his shirt. "If you're going to do that," she managed to get out, "at least help me with my buttons."

"Gladly," he murmured, his breath ghosting over her already reddened skin.

He made surprisingly quick work of the dress and slid it from her shoulders, letting it puddle around her hips. To her surprise, he didn't pull it down further; instead he knelt in front of her, still in his half-open shirt, and leaned forward to kiss the barely-there swell of her stomach.

Anna smiled softly, combing her fingers through his hair, and he looked up at her, determination and tenderness intermingled in his eyes.

"I know you worried over this, skatten min," he said, raising one hand to stroke gentle circles over the goosefleshed skin of her stomach. "That we did things out of order. But I am glad that I got to say my vows to you both.”

All of a sudden there was a lump in her throat. “You can’t just say such sweet things to me out of nowhere.”

He chuckled at that and rose to his feet, cupping her face in his hands as he looked down at her. “Why not?”

“Because you’re supposed to be ravishing me right now, not making me cry!”

“There is time enough for both,” he reassured her, and though there were still tears in her eyes, when he leaned down to kiss her she couldn’t help but smile.


	4. begynnelse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like the previous chapter, this is out of order and is about Sofie's birth so it comes after chapter 2. will put them all in chronological order soon :)
> 
> big CW for childbirth and near death experiences, but of course there is still a happy ending

Anna screams again, and the sound of it shreds through him all over again; he feels the way Prometheus must have, chained to this spot and torn apart over and over and over and knowing that each time will bring as much agony as the first.

He is bent over at the waist so he can rest his forehead against hers as he clasps their hands together. “ _Skatten min_ , my Anna,” he says, his voice hoarse from saying it so many dozens of times over the last few hours, “I love you. I am here with you.”

It came on three weeks too early and so fast that there was no time for the medicine, no opportunity to grant her relief, but even so, he is frightened; he does not think it is supposed to be like this, that she is supposed to look like she is fading around the edges. 

The doctor calls “ten”, and the tension falls from her again as she gasps for air, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. He kisses her cheek, his nose brushing over the sweaty tendrils of hair clinging to it. “She is almost here,” he whispers, his lips still lingering against her, and he feels her nod weakly, too exhausted for any other response.

The next time, Anna does not stop at ten, determined it will be the last, and her scream builds and builds as she clutches at his hands until suddenly another cry joins hers.

Anna gasps and falls back against the pillow, and Kristoff pulls away only enough to turn and see her for the first time, their daughter, and there are no words for the warmth that floods him then, the sudden certainty that the gravity of his world has been rocked utterly, that his axis is now this tiny bundle who is already determined to make herself known.

“ _Oh_ ,” Anna says, her voice full of wonder, and he turns back to her, tears springing to his own eyes.

She smiles tremulously at him, and now the tears streaming down her cheeks are of joy and not pain but beneath them, she is suddenly so pale he does not have to hear the doctor’s raised voices to know something is wrong, and then her eyes roll back and he knows somehow that she is gone.

A low moan starts from somewhere deep in his chest as he is elbowed back from the bed by people half his size, all of them shouting and carrying things, but he offers no resistance as he stumbles back towards the door, not until someone shoves a tray aside and he sees that the lower end of the bed is soaked in scarlet.

“Anna!” he cries, lunging forward, but suddenly a pair small hands are on his chest, stopping him.

“You have to leave, Mr. Bjorgman,” the woman says, her eyes fierce. 

“My wife–”

“You are more help to her outside,” and God forgive him if it’s the wrong thing to do, but he will do anything, anything to help her.

The nurse backs him outside until he collapses into a chair. She crouches before him so that though his head hangs low he is forced to meet her gaze.

“Stay out here,” she says, and though her voice is stern it is full of understanding, softened with sympathy. “I’ll wait with you.”

When did his hands start shaking like this? “I didn’t– I didn’t hold her–”

The nurse nods and rises. “Let me see if she’s ready.”

He’s tempted to take the opportunity to slip in behind her, to push through the crowds of doctors and hold Anna as close as he can. She had whispered to him once that that was what frightened her most, not death itself but going through it alone, and if he cannot save her from all of it at least he can save her from that, but before he can rise the door clicks shut again, and he knows he has lost his chance.

Not even a day ago she had been sitting on his lap on the sofa, looking longingly at their chair. “I can’t wait to fit in it with you again,” she had said with a yawn, leaning her head against his shoulder and nuzzling her nose against his neck. 

And god, he did miss it, the way she would fly straight to him, kicking her shoes off as she went, the quiet, contented sounds she would make when his arms settled around her, the way they would talk softly of everything and nothing and her sweet attempts to speak his language to him, a little better every day– but it was worth it to know that in three weeks he could hold the both of them together, both of his girls nestled in his arms where he could kiss their foreheads and tell them how much he loved them until he lost his voice.

And then she had woken up in the night with a cry of pain, curling in on herself as much as she could as he rushed for the keys and the bag and threw them in the car as she tried to get out of bed on her own, and when she had been unable to get to her feet he had swept her up in his arms and carried her downstairs himself. 

What a fool he had been to think that this would be so easy; they had been so happy these last two years, so unbelievably lucky and in love and now it was dawning on him that somehow he had used it all up, used up all the happiness the universe had allotted for him, and without realizing it he had already held her for the last time. If he had known it was the last, what would he have done differently? Would he have kissed her for longer, held her a little closer, told her a few extra times how much he loved her?

There are tears streaming down his face when the door clicks open again, and the nurse emerges holding a bundle that seems far too small. “She’s alright– the baby, I mean,” she clarifies, and lowers her arms so that he can see.

A sob chokes its way from his throat; he can tell already that she will have Anna’s little rosebud mouth. “My Sofie,” he manages to say, the name that they had settled on falling from his lips so naturally he knows it was the right choice.

“Would you like to hold her?”

He aches to do so, has practiced for months now the right way to cross his arms and cup his palm, and so he nods, but then suddenly she is there tucked in the crook of his elbow, and the weight of her is so slight he feels himself start to tremble all over again. He pulls his arms closer to his chest, hoping that will steady them, and the infant’s eyes open wide.

They are bluer than the sky and brighter than the stars, and when they land on his he loses all sense of time and place, of anything but the wonder and all-consuming love he feels for this tiny little creature who has no idea how very much she is wanted.

He kisses her forehead as gently as he can, and when he leans back the blanket has shifted, revealing fine, downy blond hair, so soft he cannot help but marvel at it. It reminds him of something, but before the right word can come to his lips Sofie screws up her face and starts to cry. 

Alarmed, he looks up at the nurse, who offers him a small smile and an already-filled bottle. “Do you know how to feed her?”

“I– I think so, I read a book…”

He trails off, knowing that books are nothing in the face of practical experience. The woman offers him the bottle, wraps his fingers around it at just the right angle, shows him how to offer it to Sofie, who sucks greedily, her own tiny hand curling reflexively in and out.

For half a moment he dares to smile at the sight, and then it hits him all at once that it should be Anna doing this, and that it is because Anna cannot and perhaps never will feed her own daughter he must learn how to do it himself.

The nurse notices the fear in his eyes. “You’re doing just fine,” she says gently. “You’re going to be a wonderful father, Mr. Bjorgman.”

“Kristoff,” he says, “please, I– you’re teaching me how to feed my own child because I do not know how, so I–”

“Mary,” she interrupts with a comforting smile. “I’m Mary. And I’m happy to help.”

He swallows hard. “What if– what if my wife–”

Mary’s eyes grow serious. “Then Sofie is lucky to have you.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Nobody does at first. But you love her, don’t you?”

He nods.

“Then the rest will fall into place.”

Her pager starts beeping then, and she rises. “They need me down the hall, but yell if you need me, okay?”

He nods again, still unable to speak, and watches until she disappears into another room. He looks back down at Sofie and sees she is watching him again. The bottle is empty, and so he lowers it and offers her an index finger instead. Her tiny fingers curl around it, already strong, and he kisses her forehead again.

“ _Skatten min,”_ he tells her, his voice low but determined, “ _jeg beklager at dette er din begynnelse. Men jeg vil gjøre alt jeg kan for at resten av reisen blir jevnere_.”

Her eyelids start to droop, lulled to sleep by the sound of his voice, and he pulls her close to his chest again, settling her somewhere over his heart, just at the spot where Anna most likes to rest her head at night, and he knows that somehow they will find a way to be alright.

The door creaks open again. “Mr. Bjorgman?”

He does not respond; instead, he closes his eyes, bracing himself and instinctively tightening his arm around his daughter. There are footsteps, and then the voice is a little closer.

“Your wife is asking for you. She’s going to be just fine.”


	5. ducklings

Little hands on his shoulder startle him from sleep.

“Papa,” Sofie whispers, “Papa, you gotta help me make the stuff.”

He rolls over and meets wide blue eyes, a rat’s nest of blonde curls, and a grin missing two front teeth. “It’s too early, Ducky, remember we said we’ll let Mommy sleep in?”

“The clock says eight-zero-three.”

He blinks in surprise. “It’s already that late?”

Sofie nods vigorously. “I’ve been up like seven hours already, Papa.”

“Thank you for waiting to get me up,” he says, and slides out of bed. They have been working on that; Anna and he both are night owls, but somehow their daughter is the sort of child who lives for sunrises and early-morning pleas of, “Come play with me and Sven, Papa,  _ pleaaaase _ .”

(He always gives in, of course; perhaps he’s spoiling her like Anna teases him, but-- well. He’s heard these years when they still  _ want _ to spend time with you are all too short, and he wants to make the most of them.)

Sofie hands him his glasses from the nightstand, and he ruffles her hair in thanks. They tiptoe together out of the room, closing the door as quietly as they can behind them, leaving Anna still curled under the nest of blankets, snoring softly.

“Are we going to do blueberry pancakes, Papa?” Sofie asks hopefully as they slip into the kitchen.

“Of course. How else can we put the heart on them?” 

He lifts her up and sets her on the counter so she can see what’s going on and help in whatever way she can. She takes after her mother; she shows her affection through action, always looking for ways to make herself useful. At first, he called her his duckling because when she was born it was with a crown of fuzzy, yellow-blond hair, but now she stays Ducky because of the way she toddles around after him, always looking for ways to get involved, like she has since she first learned to walk. 

He sets a bowl beside her and hands her the whisk. "Think you can handle the mixing,  _ skatten min _ ?"

She nods solemnly. That she gets from him, a sense of duty about even the smallest things when it involves her loved ones. He kisses her forehead before pulling out the milk and eggs, and she giggles.

"That tickles, Papa!" she says, patting his unshaven cheeks.

He puts her to work whisking the eggs and milk and oil together while he measures the flour. She wraps her chubby fist around the whisk and attacks the mixture wholeheartedly, the full force of a four-year-old’s latent fury unleashed upon the unwitting liquid, and as she works her tongue pokes out just a bit from the corner of her mouth, another little habit she has inherited-- or perhaps learned; he can never decide which he thinks it is-- from her mother. It still gives him pause sometimes, the wonder of it all, the fact that between the two of them they somehow made this marvelous little creature. Before he had met Anna, he had had the idea that perhaps he was destined to be a lifelong bachelor, had resigned himself to frozen entrees and dodging questions at extended family gatherings, but now he likes to think that a part of him was always meant for this, that his meeting Anna wasn’t some happy accident but a twist of fate that had lain in his path all along. 

Sofie holds up the bowl for his examination; he gives her a nod of approval, and her face lights up. “Can I do the flour, too?” she asks hopefully.

It’s tempting, it really is, when she looks up at him with those Anna-blue eyes, but last time he let her, there had been so many lumps left that even the cat had turned up his nose. It had broken Sofie’s heart, no matter how much he reassured her that it was the sort of mistake anyone could make. “Well, Ducky, I was wondering if actually you might help sort through the blueberries and help pick out the best ones.”

She accepts this solemn duty with glee, inspecting each little blue orb with a squint before setting aside those that meet her criteria and eating those that don’t. There doesn’t seem to be much difference between the two, really, but it keeps her distracted long enough for him to finish mixing the batter and get the first one poured into the pan. “Smiley or heart, d’you think?”

“A heart with a smile,” she proclaims.

“Absolutely brilliant idea,” he says, setting her on his hip so she can lean over the stove and plop the blueberries in herself. When she’s done, the pattern doesn’t particularly resemble a smile or a heart, but he thanks her anyway before flipping the pancake over.

He sets her to the task of scrambling eggs and stirring in the cheese as he finishes up the pancakes, and luckily she doesn’t notice when he turns away to finish breaking a yolk or two after she hands him the bowl. When at last it’s all plated and set carefully on the tray, she claps her hands with delight. “You’re a very good assistant, Papa,” she says, and he gives her another kiss on the forehead because she’s his little girl and he loves her to the moon and back and that’s more than enough reason. 

He carries the tray as Sofie darts up the stairs ahead of him and launches herself onto the bed. “Mama!” she squeals as Kristoff flips the light switch. “Happy Mother’s Day!”

Anna turns over, squinting at the sudden brightness, but there’s a huge smile on her face as she sits up and pulls her daughter into a hug. “Aw, thank you, Sof!” she says, nuzzling her nose against the little girl’s. “You really did all this for me?”

“Mhmm! Papa helped!”

  
Kristoff sets the tray down on the end of the bed so that he can lean over and kiss his wife’s cheek, but before he gets too close, she wrinkles her nose, turning a funny shade of gray. “Oh, there’s eggs, I-- _fuck!”_ she says, and squirms out from under Sofie before running into the bathroom next door, a hand already over her mouth.

Neither Kristoff nor Sofie speak until she turns up to him, her blue eyes already welling up with tears. “Mama said a no-no word,” she says, her voice quivering, and he swoops her up into his arms, not quite trusting himself to speak just yet. Anna  _ loves _ scrambled eggs with cheese; she hasn’t turned up her nose at them, definitely not gotten suddenly sick at the sight of them for going on six years now.

_ Surely not _ , he thinks to himself, though his heart is already picking up hopeful speed.  _ Last time they said that was it, not to get our hopes up. But maybe-- _

Before Sofie’s sniffles can turn into a full-on cry against his shoulder, he hears the toilet flush, and Anna reemerges, looking sheepish. “I’m so sorry, my loves,” she says, taking Sofie and giving her a quick kiss on the top of the head. “Your breakfast looks really wonderful, I swear, and I’m so so surprised, really! I just...well. I had a Mother’s Day surprise for you guys, too.”

She looks up at him with that little crooked smile he fell in love with the first time he saw it. “I guess next year you’ll have two kitchen assistants, Chef Sofie, d’you think that’ll be alright?”

Sofie looks up at Kristoff, confused, and suddenly he realizes his eyes are blurry. “You’re gonna be a big sister, Ducky,” he manages to get out, and now she looks even more worried.

“Why does that make you sad, Papa?”

He can’t hold back any longer and pulls them both into a tight hug. “Not sad at all,” he says, dropping a kiss on each of their heads. “In fact, I think I might just be the happiest I’ve ever been.”


	6. a week of snow days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another one for one shot wednesday!

**one.**

“Hey, Anna,” he says, that still-shy smile unfurling on his face even though they’re only talking over the phone and it’s been four months and he told her he loved her weeks ago and she said it right back.

“Kris! Thank goodness I caught you in time!”

“In time? Is something wrong?”

“No, no, it’s just that the weather channel says the first snow will be tomorrow instead of this weekend, and I’m about to have to go into this huge meeting, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to get to the store in time!”

He’s confused; he thought in Colorado, people knew how to drive in the snow. “I don’t think it’ll be bad enough that you won’t be able to go tomorrow.”

“No, no, that’s not the point! It’s the first real snow of the year. I have to have the supplies.”

“What supplies,  _ skatten min _ ? I can bring some rock salt over if--”

“No, I need hot chocolate! The kind with marshmallows. And cookie dough and pretzels and--”

“Anna, start over.”

She heaves out a sigh, and his smile grows. “My family and me, we’ve always celebrated the first big snow like it’s a holiday. We always go out and play in it together, and then come in and have hot chocolate and watch a movie or something. And it’s important to me, and-- and--”

She sounds hesitant, unusual for her; he doesn’t interrupt the silence. Finally, he hears her take a deep breath.

“And you’re important to me, too. So if you have time--”

“Of course I have time. I’ll pick up the hot chocolate and drop it off on my way home.”

“Oh-- thank you, but, um. I also meant...it would be really nice to do my first snow day stuff with you. If you want to, I mean.”

His smile is now a full-blown, ear-to-ear, sun-bright grin. “I’d love to.”

**two.**

“You remembered?”

He blinks down at her. She is still curled up on her side in bed, her hair somehow all over her face and her pillow and his pillow all at once. There are shadows under her eyes because she had to meet a deadline last night, and she is wearing his oldest, most worn t-shirt.

She is so beautiful he wonders how the whole world doesn’t stop and stare.

He sits on the edge of the bed, puts his mug of hot chocolate on the nightstand and passes her hers when she sits up. “‘Course I remembered. I want to do this every first snow day for the rest of my life.”

The smile on her face is so warm it could have saved the Titanic a whole lot of trouble. And she doesn’t even know about the ring hidden in the back of his sock drawer.

**three.**

He pulls in to the already-icy driveway so fast for a moment she is frightened until she remembers he put the snow chains on last week. 

“Come on, my love,” Anna says, picking up her infant daughter from her nap, “let’s get you dressed.”

As if the little girl wasn’t already adorable enough with her mussed blonde curls-- the reason Kristoff keeps calling her his little duckling, even though he was the one who suggested calling her Sofie in the first place-- she gives her mother a sweet smile, the one she is already learning gets her whatever she wants.

Kristoff bursts through the door then, his cheeks red from the cold. “You didn’t take her out yet, did you?”

“Of course not,” Anna reassures him, leaning up on her toes to give him a kiss on the cheek he leans down to receive. “Besides, I’ll need your help getting that snowsuit on.”

His job is mostly to distract Sofie as Anna slides her little kicking legs into the pink, puffy snowsuit, the one they picked because “it has excellent reviews about the quality of insulation” and “the cute little bear ears on top!”

(He did agree once he saw it in person that the bear ears were, as Anna put it, “the cutest thing in the history of the world”, except for of course his daughter. “And you,” he had added, earning himself an extra kiss.)

She lets him carry Sofie outside, knowing that it pulls at him that he cannot stay at home most days like she does. By the way he looks down so solemnly at the infant, she knows there is more on his mind than just this annual tradition. 

As she watches, a single snowflake falls on the tip of Sofie’s tiny, perfect nose; for a moment, she is startled by this new sensation, but then she  _ laughs _ , for the very first time, and suddenly there are tears in Anna’s eyes.

She thinks there might be some in Kristoff’s, too. “ _ Dette er din første snø, skatten min _ ,” he says softly. “ _ Du vil ikke huske det, men det vil jeg alltid _ .”

Anna hasn’t picked up enough Norwegian yet to know exactly what he’s saying, but she gets the meaning, all the same, and she tucks her hand under his arm and leans her head against his shoulder, grateful that he will always be there to keep both of his girls warm.

**four.**

“Are you sure it’s alright?”

“Kris, honey, do you know why I’m so short?”

“Because you didn’t take your vitamins?”

“Because I fell so many times on my head as a baby that it squished me permanently.”

He sighs and leans down to set Sofie on top of a drift of hard-packed snow, though he still holds tight to each of her tiny hands. “That’s not true, Anna.”

“It  _ could _ be. No one’s ever tested it. But anyway, I ended up fine, didn’t I?”

“Jury’s still out.”

She tries and fails not to giggle at his teasing. Sofie laughs, too, as if somehow she understands. She understands enough, at least: that her parents are happy, and that’s enough to make her happy, too.

“Anyway, honey,” Anna says, moving to stand a few feet in front of the pair of them, “this is better for her to practice than indoors. Out here, all the snow is basically padding.”

“But it’s so cold…”

“Which is why we’ll be here to pick her up and brush the snow off.”

He sighs and slowly lets go of both of the toddler’s hands. She wavers for a moment, and his hands shoot forward to catch her, but then she takes a wobbly step towards her mother.

“That’s it, Ducky!” Anna cheers, “come to Mommy!”  
For the first time making this little journey, Sofie doesn’t fall. “You can tell she’s half-Norwegian,” Anna says in between the proud kisses she’s showering on her daughter’s face. “She’s a _natural_.”

**five.**

“Hi, Pappa! It's the first snow! Where are you?"

"Hello, my Sofie. And hello Mommy, too. I'm still in New York, remember?"

"But it's the snow, Pappa, it's important."

Anna bites her lip and takes the phone back out of the chubby toddler's hand before she can drop it. "I know," Kristoff says, disappointment in his voice, too. "I was hoping the snow would wait until tomorrow. I'll be home then."

"But it's here  _ today _ ."

She is two and not quite half, and so she does not understand things like dissertations and conferences and the rising costs of air travel.

"I know. But you can drink my cup of hot chocolate for me, okay? From the big cup."

She is, however, old enough to understand that this peace offering is a Very Big Deal.

"Okay!"

Later that night, after she has been put in her favorite pajamas and tucked in with the special blanket and has heard  _ two _ stories, she remarks to her mother that she would have rather had her father than the special hot chocolate.

Anna calls Kristoff again that night when she has tucked herself in, too. She tells him what Sofie said, and his entire face lights up.

"Now it's only you I have to worry about," he teases.

"What do you mean?"

"That you might love hot chocolate more than me."

Normally she would tease him and say she does, but she wishes he had been here today, too, and so instead she just smiles and says, "You never have to worry about that,  _ skatten min _ ."

**six.**

“Pappa! Wait!”

He turns, surprised, to see Sofie trailing across the snow towards him, waddling more than usual behind him thanks to her puffy snowsuit and the already-high snowdrifts. 

“Ducky,  _ hva gjør du _ ?” he asks, already turning back to meet her.

“Don’t go to work!” she wails. “There’s snow!”

Before he can reach her, she slips on a slick patch and falls face first into a pile of snow. He breaks into a run, but all of a sudden a massive lump of auburn and white fur is there, using his nose to help push her back upright.

By the time Kristoff reaches her, she’s standing, using the St. Bernard’s back as support; she looks like she’s still torn on whether she should laugh or cry, and so Kristoff scoops her up as quick as he can and brushes the snow from her cheeks.

“Tell Olaf thank you,” he says, kissing her forehead to help warm it back up.

“Thank you,” she chirps, and the dog gives a happy  _ no problem _ woof.

“And anyway, Sofie,” he adds, shifting her to his hip so he can get back to getting the box of Swiss Miss he accidentally left overnight from the trunk of his car, “it’s a Saturday.”

**seven.**

“Oh, what’s that big one for?” Anna asks, coming out in the backyard to watch as Sofie struggles mightily to roll a ball of snow that’s almost as tall as she is.

Kristoff’s eyes sparkle with mirth as soon as she asks. Sofie completes another roll and answers cheerfully, “For your tummy.”

She lets out a burst of surprised laughter. “Is it really that big?”

“Yeah, Mommy, it’s  _ ginormous _ .”

Kristoff tries to hide a snort of laughter by pretending it’s a cough as he comes over to stand with her. “To be fair,” Anna says drily, “I’m seven months pregnant. What’s your excuse?”

She nods at the other snowman Sofie had already built, one that has an even bigger base. “Who do you think that one is?”

Sofie overhears them and calls out, “That’s Pappa!” as if they needed clarification.

Now it’s Anna’s turn to try and hide a laugh. “Perhaps four-year-olds aren’t the best judge,” she says, leaning up to kiss her husband’s cheek. “But just so you know, even if you were that round I’d still think you were the handsomest man alive.”

“You flatter me too much,  _ kjære,”  _ he says, leaning down to give her a proper kiss when Sofie isn’t looking.

“Believe me, I know,” she says, patting the swell of her stomach. “How d’you think I ended up in this situation?”

“Mmm...I thought it had something to do with love at first sight and being married five years to my favorite person and--”

She kisses him again even though Sofie’s watching and will inevitably let out a squeal of disgust. “Well...that too, I suppose.”

“ _ Jeg elsker deg _ , my Anna.”

She slips her mittened hand into his gloved one. “Love you, too.”

  
  
  



End file.
